


The Case with the Bogus Clergyman

by Small_Hobbit



Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-30 17:36:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12658251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/pseuds/Small_Hobbit
Summary: In order to solve a murder case for Lestrade, Holmes dons a disguise.





	The Case with the Bogus Clergyman

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sevsgirl72](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevsgirl72/gifts).



> With grateful thanks to my lovely beta Okapi.

It had been with some relief I had watched Holmes leave 221b about an hour after breakfast. He had reached that stage in two of his cases where there was nothing further to be done until he received replies to questions he had sent. He was therefore twitchy, leaping up in anticipation of a telegram, then falling back into his armchair when the missive turned out to be nothing more than an invitation to dinner from another grateful client.  
  
I was quite content to spend the morning reading the papers, but Holmes' restlessness was distracting, so I was indeed grateful when he announced there was a line of enquiry which he hadn't yet pursued. He expected little from it, but at least it would mean he was doing something.  
  
I had almost finished perusing the newspapers when Mrs Hudson knocked on the door and announced the arrival of Inspector Lestrade.  
  
I thanked her and stood up. "Come in, Lestrade, and take a seat. I'm afraid Holmes isn't here at the moment, and I'm not sure when he's due back."  
  
"Thank you." Lestrade sat down and said, "Mr Holmes sent me a note requiring my presence here at midday today. I'm a few minutes early, but I've no doubt he'll be back soon."  
  
"Indeed," I replied. I gathered up the newspapers which were scattered around my chair.  
  
"Reading up about the Derby?" Lestrade asked. "It sounds like it will be a good race this year."  
  
"Yes," I said. "Everyone seems agreed it will be between Castle's Boy and Hiawatha. Much will depend on the state of the ground."  
  
"My preference would be for Castle's Boy. I think the weather is in his favour."  
  
I looked out of the window at the overcast sky. "I think we'll have rain within the next day, which will soften the ground just sufficiently to give Hiawatha the advantage."  
  
We had both been so engrossed in our discussion we failed to hear Mrs Hudson announce another visitor, who was now standing in the doorway.  
  
"Ah, yes, well, um," Lestrade spluttered, whilst I hastily pushed the newspapers under the dining table. "Good morning, Reverend."  
  
The visitor was dressed in the garb of a non-conformist minister.  
  
"Yes, yes, please come in and have a seat," I added.  
  
The clergyman came further into the room and looked at me, with a glint in his eye.  
  
"Oh really, Holmes!" I ejaculated.   
  
Holmes, for it was him, gave a short bark of laughter. "You don't think our good landlady would have allowed a genuine minister of religion in here without making sure there was nothing untoward, do you?"  
  
"I suppose not," I conceded. "Nevertheless, you did take advantage of us."  
  
"Mea culpa!"  
  
Lestrade snorted. "I presume there is a reason for you giving us both a shock."  
  
"There is. Your reaction has rather demonstrated my point."  
  
Lestrade looked askance at the comment, so Holmes continued, "What happens when a group of men are discussing gambling in one form or another, and a church minister happens to appear? They all become conscious of what they are doing, perhaps quickly pocket winnings and maybe suddenly need to consult their pocket watch. The one thing they don't do is pay any attention to the minister, or indeed his associates."  
  
"I suppose that is true," I said. "Although I've known the odd priest who's been very fond of the occasional wager."  
  
"That is the genius of it," Holmes said. "A Catholic priest, or an Anglican vicar, would not provoke that sort of reaction. But a non-conformist minister, who would be known to be strongly against any form of gambling, would most certainly do so."  
  
"You're not accusing a man of the cloth of deliberately acting in this way?" Lestrade looked shocked.  
  
"Of course not. But, as you can see, it is not hard to obtain the requisite costume, and an unscrupulous person could use it to their advantage."  
  
I harrumphed, recalling occasions when Holmes, too, had used the costume to his advantage.  
  
Holmes was not perturbed and said, "But the case in question I believe to be more serious than pickpocketing and similar. Lestrade, I presume you have got no further with finding Fairbrow's killer?"  
  
Lestrade shook his head. "The two men who would most likely have been involved have alibis. Robinson was seen in the Red Lion in Stepney; he plays the piano there on Thursday nights. And Tranter was a guest in Shoreditch police cells. No-one else was seen in the area."  
  
"I have a correction, Lestrade. The neighbours were asked if they saw anyone unusual, to which they quite truthfully said no. Which led me to believe whoever had killed Fairbrow might still have been seen, but wasn't considered unexpected. There was, of course, the night watchman, who found the body, but he couldn't have committed the crime."  
  
Lestrade nodded. "Please continue."  
  
"My initial thought was it must be someone posing as a doctor, who could have stabbed Fairbrow and then hidden elsewhere in the building, before leaving at a suitable juncture. However, when I suggested they must have seen the doctor the response was, 'Nah, a doctor wouldn't have been needed. 'E had a dirty great big 'ole in his chest, was obvious 'ow 'e'd died.' Which ruled out the doctor.'  
  
"Good," I said.  
  
"And then I added, 'and no doubt the priest called round'. To which one of them replied, 'Yeah, but it wasn't Father Lester, who drinks at the Bells, it was one of them different ones. You know the sort who don't approve of drinking or gambling.' So I called round at the local police station and asked if they had the name of the minister who had gone to the house after the murder. They confirmed someone had been there, but there was no record of a name."  
  
Lestrade sighed. "So after all that, we are no closer to finding the murderer. Anyway, Holmes, that doesn't explain why you're dressed in the same fashion."  
  
"Lestrade, as ever, you insist on jumping to conclusions. It is true we still don't have a name, but by dint of my wearing this outfit, I have a number of possibilities, one of which I believe may well prove to be our man."  
  
I saw Holmes looking at Lestrade with a small smile on his face. Somehow I knew the answer to the question I was about to pose would frustrate Lestrade even more. "I presume you are not yet prepared to share this name with us," I said. "But how did you obtain your list of possibilities?"  
  
"That was remarkably easy. I entered Scotland Yard, dressed as I am, and approached the front desk, complaining bitterly someone had been impersonating me. The two gentlemen behind the desk very obligingly provided me with the names of those who they suspected it to have been. And then, when they asked if I would like to make a formal complaint, I replied I would give the gentlemen the benefit of charity, for they would not have fallen into such an error had they not been in great need."  
  
Lestrade's face was a picture. I fear I did not contain my mirth sufficiently, for he alternated his glare between Holmes and me.  
  
Fortunately, Holmes added, "I have a plan which I believe will entrap our murderer. Lestrade, would you care to join with us in springing the trap?"  
  
"I most certainly would," Lestrade growled.  
  
Holmes began to outline his plan. "For some time it has been suspected Fairbrow has been involved in certain jewellery thefts; single small items of high value, almost certainly stolen to order. It's never been proved. Despite the best attempts of you and your colleagues, none of the goods have been found in his possession."  
  
Lestrade nodded. He had first brought the case to Holmes over a month earlier, but even Holmes seemed to be in the dark as to how Fairbrow was managing the thefts.  
  
"There had to be someone behind Fairbrow," Holmes continued, "someone who was accepting the commissions, if you like, and also ensuring a distraction when the theft was in progress. Had it been ten years ago, I would have assumed this was the Professor, but the crimes have lacked a little of his finesse."  
  
"But why was Fairbrow killed?" I asked. "Surely this is akin to killing the goose which laid the golden egg."  
  
"My theory was Mr (or should I say Reverend) X had decided this particular line of thefts had run its course. X wanted to stop before he was exposed, but he also wanted to continue living in the same city. He decides to pay off his confederates, lay low for a while and then begin a new venture. Only either Fairbrow didn't want to be paid off, or X felt he knew too much and decided to silence him."  
  
"But why go to all the trouble of pretending to be a clergyman?" Lestrade asked. "Surely that would draw attention to X, rather than deflecting it."  
  
"That would seem the logical conclusion. But X is very clever. X is suspected of being involved in petty theft. If he is caught when providing the distraction for one of the jewel thefts, he maintains his role as small time criminal and no-one suspects him of being involved in anything more serious. Now, I believe X still has to pay off the rest of the gang from the jewel thefts, but he won't make a move until he can safely adopt his disguise again."  
  
"Of course!" I exclaimed. "Derby Day."  
  
***  
  
It was thus we found ourselves in Epsom on the day of the Derby. Not, unfortunately at the race course, but in the town. Holmes had left us, with instructions to follow anyone behaving suspiciously, but not to approach them unless it became imperative.  
  
Since we were unable to place our bets on the course, and Lestrade, given his role in society, was unwilling to make use of one of the bookies' runners who were hanging around on the street corners, we had contented ourselves with agreeing whoever's horse won would be treated to dinner by the other. It would make up in part for being so close, but unable to watch the race in person.  
  
Lestrade and I strolled round the town, looking for possible suspicious persons, and in particular those in clerical dress. We did see one vicar, but since he emerged from a church and promptly disappeared into the next door vicarage, we felt he was a bona fide priest.  
  
We had about given up hope, when we saw a clergyman in the distance. He was walking quickly across a road ahead of us, and as soon as he was on the other side, he began to run, disappearing from our sight as he turned the corner. Lestrade and I ran after him, but by the time we had reached the corner he'd vanished.  
  
Lestrade looked round and happened to peer into a basement, and caught someone looking up at him. Lestrade must have been recognised, because there was a cry of "Quick, the Old Bill."  
  
Two men emerged and tried to escape by running up the basement steps, but Lestrade was too quick for them. With my help, he handcuffed them together, and used a second set of handcuffs to attach them to a drainpipe.  
  
We could hear muffled sounds from the basement, and descended, to find the clergyman had tied up a third man. Lestrade was about to challenge the clergyman when he removed his hat and we saw it was Holmes.  
  
"Where are the other men?" Holmes asked.  
  
"Tied up outside," Lestrade said.  
  
"Quick, bring them in here, we mustn't spook our visitor."  
  
We went back outside and together Lestrade and I got the two men back down to the basement. There Holmes gagged them, and pushed all three into a small side room. He warned them to stay quiet, threatening them with being charged with being accessories to murder if they did not.  
  
"We don't have much time," Holmes said. "We need to pretend we are the three men we have just bundled next door. It's dark down here, and I don't believe my quarry knows them very well, so I think it will work just long enough."  
  
We sat ourselves on the packing cases, under Holmes' direction, Lestrade and I having our backs to the door. It was not ideal, but it was possible Lestrade would be recognised, and if our visitor knew the men at all he would realise none of them sported a moustache like mine. Holmes, meanwhile, had taken on a second disguise, and now looked like a manual labourer.  
  
We did not have long to wait. We soon heard the sound of footsteps, and we were joined by a fourth man.  
  
"Began to fink you weren't coming," Holmes said with a distinct nasal whine.  
  
"There's police around, I had to be careful," came the reply. The speaker came into view. It came as no surprise to see he was dressed as a clergyman.  
  
"'Ave you got the money?"  
  
"Here!"  
  
A packet was handed over to Holmes, who opened it and counted the contents. "That all you're giving us?" he asked. "I reckon you know more about Fairbrow's death then you're telling. That should be worth more than what's here."  
  
"Well, if you don't want to end up like Fairbrow, I suggest you take what you've got and be grateful."  
  
"So you do know who killed 'im."   
  
Holmes was clearly trying to needle the other man, apparently successfully, because the man pulled a knife out of his pocket and advanced on Holmes. Instantly I was on my feet, but Lestrade was quicker, grabbing the man's arms. The man struggled, trying to knock Lestrade to one side, but the little inspector truly is like a terrier, and held on firmly. Holmes relieved the man of his knife, and I assisted in tying him up.  
  
Lestrade had previously contacted his colleagues in the Surrey Constabulary to warn them he was planning on making an arrest in their area. They had raised no objections, since their own constables were already fully committed with the Derby, but had assured him they would provide assistance if necessary. Accordingly, we left our captive in their cells, pending collection by officers from Scotland Yard.  
  
Holmes released the other three men from the side room. They instantly made their escape. I ventured to Lestrade he might have preferred to have taken them into custody, too.  
  
"No," he said, shaking his head. "They're small time crooks. They'll probably be picked up by the local police by the end of today anyway, and it will be their problem, not mine."  
  
The three of us caught the train back to London. Once we had settled into our seats I said, "After all that, I never found out whether Castle's Boy or Hiawatha won the race. I suppose we'll learn the result when we get back to Waterloo."  
  
"It was Trilby," Holmes announced. "Won by a short head, having come up on the outside."  
  
"There goes my dinner," Lestrade said.  
  
"And mine," I added.  
  
"I had planned to buy you both dinner with my winnings," Holmes said, "but, since you two gentlemen obviously agreed the loser would buy dinner for the winner, it would seem more appropriate for you to buy dinner for me."


End file.
